


Just An Old Fashioned Love Song: or, Three Conversations Adam and Charlie Never Expected to Have

by sev313



Category: Mighty Ducks (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-16
Updated: 2010-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-13 17:19:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sev313/pseuds/sev313
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three intimate looks into the lives of Adam Banks and Charlie Conway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just An Old Fashioned Love Song: or, Three Conversations Adam and Charlie Never Expected to Have

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beingothrwrldly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beingothrwrldly/gifts).



> These characters belong to Disney. I'm just playing in their sandbox.
> 
> Written for beingothrwrldly, who gives wonderful prompts. I hope this lives up to what you wanted. I hope it's happy enough, even though I did dabble into small bits of angst here and there. And I hope it's not too long. The whole thing sort of ran away from me at some point.
> 
> Happy Holidays!

**I. I Waited in the Rain for Hours.**

Charlie is on his back, legs spread, lips damp and swollen before he has a chance to register what’s happening. Before he has a chance to realize that this is _Adam_ , his best friend, linemate, roommate; before he has a chance to recognize that it’s _Adam’s_ cock pressing into his hip and long before he realizes that he’s harder than he’s ever been in his life.

And Charlie’s arching into the touch, his hands skimming under Adam’s polo shirt and pressing, hot and sweaty, against the small of Adam’s back, pulling him closer, long before he realizes what he’s doing. Long before Adam does, too, as he suddenly rips his mouth away and flinches back.

“Um-” Adam runs a hand through his hair and Charlie’s hip burns where the hand used to be.

 _What the fuck?_ is what Charlie wants to say, but looking at Adam, resting back on his heels and chest heaving, Charlie’s throat is dry. Adam’s eyes trail down his body, to where Charlie’s thighs are still spread around Adam’s knees, and Charlie’s erection is still clearly outlined through his sweats. Charlie swallows and he watches as Adam blushes, deeply, and he has the insane urge to see if the color spreads all the way to Adam’s bellybutton.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean – I don’t know what came over me.” Adam’s voice is hoarse, brittle.

It goes straight to Charlie’s groin and he feels the blood start to rush back to his head, enough so that Charlie can see how much Adam is shaking above him and Charlie can’t do anything other than reach up a hand to wrap in the collar of Adam’s shirt and pull him down. Adam catches himself on his hands and Charlie reaches up to wrap a hand around his neck. “It’s okay,” he whispers, even though it’s anything but. If his pounding heart is anything to go by, things are never going to be okay again. Not in the way they were before.

Adam shakes his head, his hair falling across his eyes and Charlie gives into the urge to push it off of Adam’s forehead. Adam’s eyes close and Charlie feels his cock begin to swell again. “I’m sorry,” Adam chokes.

Charlie doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if he forgives Adam, he doesn’t even know if he has something to forgive Adam _for_. But he does know that Adam is still hard against him, and that he _really_ wants Adam to do that thing with his eyes again, so he tightens his thighs around Adam’s hips and uses his free hand to flick the button on Adam’s jeans.

Adam’s eyes are wide, pupils blown, his breath hitching as Charlie takes him in his hand. Adam’s already swollen and leaking, straining towards his belly. Charlie is transfixed by it, unsure of what to do, but he wraps it in his fist and gives an experimental tug. He’s sloppy and unpracticed, too soft and too hard all at once, but Adam’s close already. He’s done this once or twice behind the bleachers in the gym, but it’s never felt like this, and he’s done almost before it’s started.

“God, Charlie, fuck-” He tries to pull Charlie’s hand away in time, but Charlie’s eyes are trained on him, fascinated when the head of Adam’s cock swells and he pulses, hot and wet into Charlie’s fist.

Charlie keeps stroking until Adam flinches and wraps his hand around Charlie’s, pulling it away. He doesn’t know what to do with the disappointment in Charlie’s face, so he ducks his head and drops his shaking hand into Charlie’s sweats. Charlie is iron hard, pushing up to meet him, seeming to like _any_ friction Adam has to offer. It only takes a couple of pulls and Charlie’s arching his back and coming harder than he ever has before. Adam works him through the aftershocks, until Charlie is limp in his grasp, his chest heaving.

Adam’s eyes are trained on where his hand disappears below Charlie’s waistband, and he doesn’t look up until Charlie catches him below his chin, his fingers still sticky with Adam’s cum. “That was good,” Charlie whispers, his eyes already half-lidded.

Adam laughs. It’s stilted and shaky, but it’s a laugh and it turns into a moan as Charlie reaches down to tuck him into his boxers and help him push his jeans off his hips. Adam looks at him questioningly, but Charlie looks back with sleepy eyes and Adam just knows that he’ll never be able to deny Charlie anything when he’s like this.

He scrambles up, Charlie groaning as his thighs fall to the bed, stretched and soar, and Adam lays a hand on Charlie’s hip before heading into the bathroom. He comes back out with a washcloth and pushes Charlie’s pants down just enough to clean him off. When he’s done, Charlie’s looking at him again and Adam maintains the gaze as he slips under the covers and lies on his side, pressed alongside Charlie’s body in the small Eden Hall beds.

“We need to talk.”

“Mmm.” Charlie turns his head. “I just got laid.” And he closes his eyes again. Adam sighs, but he settles down and forces himself to sleep as well.  
***  
They never do get around to having that talk. Mostly because every time that Adam tries to bring it up, Charlie finds increasingly inventive ways to distract him. Or, perhaps, Charlie can’t keep his hands off of him, but that would probably be too much for Adam to ask. He knows that he should just be happy Charlie hasn’t given up the gig and punched him yet. It’s just, there are times, little hints, like that first night when Charlie cuddled with him afterwards, slept beside him. That’s not something a completely straight guy would do and it gives Adam hope.

Even if Charlie won’t have the fucking talk.

The first time, they’re in history class and Adam’s so transfixed by Charlie’s fingers as they twist his pencil back and forth that he doesn’t hear their teacher ask the question. Not ‘til Fulton jabs him in the side and it’s a good thing Adam’s a good student, ‘cause he rattles off the answer without thinking. Fulton’s giving him a look, one that speaks way too much of things that Adam is in no way ready to talk about yet, not at least until he has the talk with _Charlie_.

So, when class ends and Fulton makes a beeline towards him, Adam grasps Charlie’s elbow. “We need to talk.”

Those words seem to set something off in Charlie, ‘cause he pulls Adam into an unused classroom and shuts the door, pushing Adam up against it. Charlie’s lips are warm and pliant, and their teeth click unpleasantly for a moment before Adam adjusts the angle and Charlie opens his mouth up to him. Charlie seems to love kissing. Hours of leisurely kissing, on their beds, on the couch in the lounge long after everyone’s gone to bed, in the empty locker room. Wherever they can catch a moment together, Charlie’s kissing him.

It’s not always with intent, either. Charlie is happy to just kiss him senseless before he leaves Adam, breathless and panting and completely unprepared to handle whatever it is they’re supposed to be doing next. This time, though, Adam isn’t having any of it. Not when he pulls away, his chest racing to catch a breath, and Charlie’s lips are swollen and glistening.

Adam groans.

Charlie raises an eyebrow, as if just noticing the effect that he’s having. “Want a hand?”

Adam nods, unable to do anything but moan as Charlie’s palm, clammy and still-unpracticed after a month or so of trying, closes over the bulge in his khakis. What Charlie lacks in skill he makes up for in enthusiasm, and Adam is too close to the edge too fast, and he squirms, reaching down to cover Charlie’s hand with his own.

“Stop, stop, I’m _so_ close.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Charlie’s giving him his confused look, the one that makes Adam’s knees weak, and Adam has to grasp his bicep to stay upright.

“I-” Adam licks his lips, not missing the fact that Charlie’s eyes glaze over as he watches Adam’s mouth. “I have math in 20 minutes, and I’d really rather not have the mess.” He doesn’t mention that he’s going to smell of sex no matter what, doesn’t mention the look that Fulton was giving him earlier.

Charlie frowns, biting his lip and tilting his head as if thinking this through, then nods to himself as if coming to a decision. When Charlie rests a warm palm on Adam’s hip, Adam assumes that Charlie’s decided to throw caution to the wind and use tissues or something, even though they’d have to throw them away in a classroom trash can. He is completely unprepared for Charlie to sink to his knees.

Adam’s dick twitches, and he’s sure that Charlie can see it, what with being eye-to-eye with the bulge now, but Adam can’t bring himself to care. Not with Charlie’s warm breath puffing against him and his shaking fingers reaching for the button on Adam’s pants.

Adam swallows, figures he has to at least protest _a little_. “You don’t have-” But then Charlie’s hand is wrapped around his bare cock and no one’s ever been able to deter Charlie when he sets his mind to something, so Adam sees no reason to start now. Not when Charlie is wrapping his hand around the base of Adam’s cock and licking experimentally at the head.

Adam moans, splaying his palms against the door to hold himself upright. Pre-come is leaking steadily from his cock and Charlie reaches out again to taste it. He looks so concentrated that Adam has to bite his lip from laughing, but it does have the effect of tempering his libido just long enough so that he will at least last until Charlie has put his whole mouth on him.

Barely. Charlie takes the head between his lips, slipping his tongue under the ridge, and Adam’s eyes slip shut. Charlie is hot and warm and Adam thrusts his hips forward, wanting more, needing more, but Charlie pulls back, choking and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Sorry, god, Charlie, I’m sorry,” Adam whispers, but it’d be a little more believable if his cock wasn’t angry and purple, bobbing against his belly.

Charlie’s sitting back on his heels and he looks a little rueful, but Adam doesn’t miss the fact that his pants are no longer tented. “That didn’t happen in the clips.” Charlie’s blushing and Adam gapes at him.

“You – you watched _porn_ as research?” Charlie blushes even deeper, confirming it, and Adam shakes his head, fighting the urge to do something stupid, like tell Charlie how cute the whole thing is.

Charlie’s frowning up at him now, moving forward again to work Adam with his hand. “I wanted it to be good the first time, you know? I wanted you to like it.” And there’s that look on Charlie’s face, the one he gets when he decides to use the Flying V or when he’s about to stand his ground with Orion, and he moves forward in one motion, taking Adam half-way in.

“Oh-” Adam grasps at Charlie’s head, making sure to use it only for balance and not to push or pull. He’s careful now, forcing his hips back against the door as Charlie’s tongue flattens against the vein on the underside of Adam’s cock. Charlie looks up at him, through eyelashes still a little wet from his choking, and Charlie hums, as if he actually _likes_ this.

The thought is enough, too much really, and the hands in Charlie’s hair start to tug. “Charlie, I’m gonna cum.” Charlie doesn’t move back, doesn’t flinch as Adam swells and cums, hard and long, extended as Charlie swallows around him, pulling everything from Adam that he has. When he’s done, Charlie does his pants back up and rises to his knees.

“You didn’t pull back.” Adam knows he sounds hoarse, somewhat accusing, and Charlie just frowns at him.

“That would have defeated the point of this not being dirty.” Charlie’s looking confused again and Adam loves it, loves the expression on him, and he leans forward to kiss him, tasting himself in Charlie’s teeth and almost getting hard again at the thought.

“Thank you,” Adam whispers, reaching his hand down to Charlie’s erection only to be batted away.

“You have class,” Charlie reminds him, almost chuckling.

“But-”

“Tonight,” Charlie whispers, as if it’s a promise he’s making to himself more than to Adam. Adam nods, absently, and Charlie pulls him forward enough so that he can slip out the door, leaving Adam to gather himself for class, wondering why Charlie always seems to come out of these encounters so much more in control when it’s his first time at all these things and Adam is the _practiced_ one, even if not by much. It scares him.  
***  
The second time, Adam shouldn’t really have expected an answer. They’re on the couch in the lounge on a rare Friday night without a game the next day. They’ve had a couple beers, just enough to feel warm and comfortable, and much less than the rest of their teammates have.

Goldberg stumbled away about thirty minutes ago, mumbling something about donuts. Guy and Connie had left not long after, giggling and holding hands and ignoring all the raised eyebrows. It’s just Charlie, Adam, Dean, and Fulton now. They’re playing Resident Evil, taking sips of beer every time they lose. Somewhere along the way, they had lost the fourth controller and no one had the money to replace it, so Adam is leaning against the armrest, his arm brushing against Charlie’s, watching the way Charlie moves every time he throws his hands in the air after blowing something up.

When Charlie’s won for a sixth consecutive time, Dean throws his controller in disgust. “Fuck this.” He stands, downing the rest of his beer and dropping it in the trash before holding out a hand to Fulton and pulling him to shaky feet. “I need some fresh air. And to hit something real.”

Fulton nods, finishing his own beer and waving as he follows Dean out to do whatever Dean has in mind. Leaving Adam and Charlie. Alone.

“Ah-” Adam starts, his arm twitching against Charlie’s, and Charlie grins, leaning over to kiss him.

“I’ve been waiting for them to leave all night.” Charlie’s eyes are dark, his pupils dilated, and Adam feels himself grow hard in his jeans.

“Really?” Adam licks his dry lips and Charlie’s eyes darken further. “Because I-”

Charlie kisses him again, and Adam really doesn’t know if it’s because he doesn’t want to hear what’s next, or because he’s transfixed by Adam’s mouth. Either way, he’s smirking when they pull apart. “What were you saying?”

“Um,” Adam swallows, trying to remember exactly why he wants to ask so much. “I just, um, I just wanted to know-” Charlie’s staring at him, that confused look on his face again, and Adam rushes out in one breath. “-what you want.”

Charlie laughs. “You want to know what I really want?”

Adam nods, vigorously. “Yeah.”

Charlie bends over to dig for the controller that Dean had thrown to the floor. He tosses it to Adam. “I really want to kick your ass in Mario Cart.”

Adam should be disappointed. That’s not the answer he was looking for, not an answer at all, really. Except, as they start playing, Charlie presses the entire length of his body against Adam’s and, instead of throwing a fit when Adam wins the first race, he lifts Adam’s arm and scoots underneath it. They play for hours that way, cuddling and playing Mario Cart and drinking beer, and Adam truly can’t decide if it’s enough.  
***  
Three days later, and Adam’s pretty much convinced himself that they never need to have the talk. They’re on the ice after a good, hard practice, staying late to work on some breakaways and no-look passes. Their chemistry on the ice is even better after all that’s happened in the last couple months, and they tumble into the locker room afterwards sweaty and giddy.

Adam’s laughing as he hangs his gear in his locker and strips off his clothes, before he notices that Charlie isn’t laughing anymore. Peering over his shoulder, Charlie is just looking at him, a shy smile that looks so out of place on his face. Adam raises an eyebrow, before grabbing his towel and heading into the showers.

His eyes are closed, head under the spray when he feels two arms around his waist. They’ve been naked together before, but this feels intimate, exposed, and Adam shivers despite the heat of the shower.

“I’ve been thinking about this. For months.” Charlie’s voice is low and Adam wonders if he had planned this, asking Adam to stay late and practice so that they could have this time alone in the locker room. Not that he can bring himself to complain if he did, not when Charlie runs a hand down his spine and stops, questioningly, on his ass.

Adam freezes for a moment. They haven’t done this yet. In fact, Adam’s never done this before, and, despite how talented Charlie has become with both his hands and his mouth, this is different. This is real, and dangerous, if more so emotionally then physically, and Adam has to bite his lip not to make Charlie have the damn talk right then and there.

Charlie must feel him tense, ‘cause he draws his hand away, curling it around Adam’s hip and wrapping it around his cock in apology. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” Adam can feel his chest as he takes a deep breath against Adam’s back. “I heard that it feels nice. That some guys like it. And I wanted you to feel good.”

Charlie sounds so earnest, and Adam turns around, wrapping Charlie in his arms and feeling him shiver. He takes a step back so that Charlie is immersed in the warmth of the water. “You do, Charlie, you do make me feel good.” He reaches for Charlie’s hand and places it on his hip, invitingly. “Just be careful, okay?”

Charlie nods, but instead of reaching his hand back, he drops to his knees and takes Adam in as far as he can in one go. Adam gasps, his head falling back to hit the wall with a crack, but he barely feels it as Charlie’s tongue caresses him, hot and wet and already more practiced in the month or so that he’s been doing this. Adam is close, fast, and Charlie’s gotten smart, his hand on Adam’s hip to press it flat against the wall.

Adam is almost too far gone to feel it when Charlie’s hand moves, leaving Adam’s hip cold, and cupping his balls before tracing along his cleft. He stops with just his fingertip pressed against Adam’s ass, pulling his mouth away and opening his eyes. Adam looks down, panting and nodding, if only to get Charlie’s mouth back.

Charlie nods, as if convincing himself, before leaning forward and taking Adam back into his mouth at the same time as he presses with his finger. Adam tenses, breathing deeply and willing his body to relax and, as Charlie keeps working him with his tongue, it’s not hard to forget about the finger.

Forget, until Charlie bends his knuckle, stretching slowly, carefully, and a warm pleasure spreads throughout his whole body. “Charlie,” Adam moans, wanting it to last, but the ache is too much, and when Charlie hits that _spot_ , Adam’s whole body shakes as his orgasm is ripped from him.

Charlie sucks him ‘til he’s soft, pulling his finger away and catching Adam as he slides down the wall. “Thank you,” Adam whispers against Charlie’s mouth, kissing him softly, almost chastely. They sit like that, barely moving, until Charlie lets out a little moan and Adam feels bad about forgetting him. He reaches down, grasping Charlie in his palm, already hard. He knows it’s not going to take long, but he tries to draw it out, alternating between slow and fast strokes. Charlie isn’t having any of it, thrusting his hips into Adam’s fist and coming with a loud moan, long and hot between their bodies.

“Fuck,” Charlie whispers, pulling Adam close and resting in the curve of Adam’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Adam whispers. He’s starting to feel cold, curled on the damp tile, and he uses the wall to pull them both shakily to their feet and back into the stream of hot water. Charlie sighs happily, and Adam squeezes some soup into his hand, taking the opportunity to really explore Charlie’s body for the first time. When Charlie is completely covered, he pushes him gently under the spray and washes him off, before pulling on his neck until he tips his head backwards and lets Adam shampoo his hair.

“I like this,” Charlie whispers. Adam doesn’t know if he’s referring to the attention or their closeness, or the sex they just had, but Adam can’t argue on any account.

He’s feeling high, lightheaded, by the time he pushes Charlie far enough out of the way so that he can wash himself quickly and turn off the spray. He hands Charlie a towel, unable to rip his eyes away as Charlie wraps it around his waist. Adam can’t really bring himself to pay attention to anything, not when Charlie’s upper body is still wet and shining in the low light of the showers.

He almost trips on the step into the locker room, paying no attention to anything but how wonderfully loose and happy he feels, not until there’s a cough and he looks up to see Coach Orion eyeing them both. Adam swallows.

“Get dressed and meet me in my office.” Coach Orion’s face is blank, giving no hints as to how much he was able to hear.

Adam doesn’t bother to towel off as he grabs his jeans and pulls them on roughly. He’s still feeling sort of out-of-body, and Charlie staring at him as if he wants to say something isn’t helping. “Get dressed,” Adam throws at him, wishing for the second time in the last hour that they had had the talk, feeling like, without it, that he’s entering the lion’s den blind.

“Um-” Adam turns around to say something comforting to Charlie, but he has no idea what it is, and when he looks at him, Charlie’s shoulders are straightened and determined, ever the Ducks Captain, even though he knows that Charlie must be as sated and blindsided as he is. Adam’s a little jealous that Charlie is _here_ right now, when he himself is not.

Adam follows him out, grateful that there are two chairs situated invitingly in front of the desk. He collapses into the closest one and immediately drops his eyes to his hands.

He expects Orion to start yelling, and when he doesn’t, Adam glances up to see that Orion’s elbows are on his desk, his chin resting in his hands, just watching them. It’s unnerving, the way that Orion’s eyes are fixed on them, and Adam glances sideways at Charlie. Charlie sighs, as if realizing that Adam sure isn’t going to be the first to speak.

“Sir-“

Orion holds up a hand. “You know that I don’t like to get involved in your personal lives.” Charlie nods and Orion sighs, dropping his hands to his desk and leaning forward. “But, in this situation, I have little choice.”

“What-“ Adam’s voice sounds small to his own ears, and he coughs to clear his throat. “What are you going to do to us?”

“I’m not going to _do_ anything. What you do, and who you do it with, is none of my business.”

“Even if,” Adam glances over at Charlie, who’s frowning, and he wonders if he’s about to say too much, if he’s about to make assumptions that it’s not fair of him to make. But, he needs to know, so he decides to plow ahead anyway. “Even if we’re gay?”

Orion sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “A lot of boys experiment at your age. But if this is more than that, I’m not going to lie to you and say that it’s going to be easy.”

“It is. More than that, sir.”

Orion’s talking again, something about hard roads and rewards and being true to themselves, but Adam isn’t listening. He’s staring at Charlie, holding his breath, afraid to hope that those words mean what they _have_ to mean. He knows he must look as dizzy as he feels when Charlie grabs him by his elbow and pulls him from the room, pushing him up against the wall.

Adam swallows. “More than?”

Charlie frowns. “What?”

“We’re more than experimenting?”

“Um, yes?” He has that confused look that Adam’s becoming really fond of, and Adam feels himself smile.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, of course.” Adam frowns. “If we weren’t just fooling around, why wouldn’t you let me _talk_ about it?”

“You never _tried_.”

“I tried that first night.”

Charlie tilts his head, as if trying to remember. “I had just had your hand on my dick. I wasn’t _able_ to talk.”

“And again that first time you gave me a blowjob.” It’s a crass turn of phrase, standing as they are in this empty hallway, but Adam’s world is turning itself upside down and he can’t bring himself to think of a nicer way to say it.

Charlie blushes. “You were doing this _thing_ with your eyes, watching me all through class. I barely contained myself until we were in that classroom.”

“And-“ Adam’s speaking slowly now, as if afraid that these answers are going to stop coming. “The night we played Mario Kart?”

Charlie frowns. “We didn’t do anything distracting that night.”

Adam shakes his head. “No, but, when I asked you what you wanted, you said you wanted to play _Mario Kart_ all night.”

“That was you asking me what I wanted from _this_?” Charlie motions between their chests and Adam nods. Suddenly, Charlie laughs, as if this whole misunderstanding is the most ridiculous thing in the world, and, Adam supposes, it really is.

“So, you weren’t trying to distract me all those times?” Adam asks when Charlie is able to breathe again, just wanting to make sure.

“Nope.” Charlie leans forward so that he’s speaking right into Adam’s lips. “You, Adam Banks, aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

“Good,” Adam whispers, wrapping his arms around Charlie’s shoulders and pulling him into a kiss.

 **II. I Would Buy Myself a Grey Guitar.**

“Fuck, it’s hot.”

“Yep.” Charlie takes one hand off the steering wheel so that he can stick it out the window in hopes of catching some kind of a breeze, but even the wind in New Mexico is hot in August. He glances in the rearview mirror, biting his lip at the picture of Fulton, Guy, and Goldberg squeezed into the back of his beat-up old Jeep.

When they had decided to spend the summer after graduation from Eden Hall on a trip across the country to visit the hometowns of all the Ducks, they hadn’t considered how _hot_ the South is for those who were born and bred in Minnesota. At least it hadn’t been so bad for the first leg of the trip, the part where they drove all the way to Chicago with Dean sprayed out over laps in the back seat.

Charlie glances over at Adam, who has his eyes closed, arm held out the window in an attempt to get some sun on his pale skin. “Hey.”

Adam turns towards him without opening his eyes. “Hmm?”

“You still have the camera, right?”

Adam cracks open one eye to glare at him, before patting his pocket and rolling back towards the sun. Charlie had taken it upon himself to snap pictures every time the four of them had fallen asleep in a heap, and Fulton had been threatening to destroy the camera every since.

“Seriously, man, who would decide to live in such a place?” Goldberg has a bandana tied around his wrist, that he’s using to mop at his forehead every few second, jabbing Guy in the side every time he moves.

Guy glares at him. “It’s the desert.” He arches his back to stretch a bit, before falling back against the leather seats. “At least it’s less humid here.”

Fulton grunts next to them noncommittally. Charlie glances back at him. Fulton’s been really quite since they left Dwayne’s ranch in Texas. Not that Fulton isn’t always quiet, but this is noticeable even for him. Charlie had cornered him about it at a rest stop yesterday, but Fulton had shrugged it off, saying something about the heat. But, as he had walked away, he had thrown a jab over his shoulder about how Adam has been sitting in the front seat the whole trip.

Charlie knows that it’s not fair. He’s driving, so of course he doesn’t have to sit in the back, but Adam is certainly smaller than both Goldberg and Fulton, and he really should be taking his turn in the back. But every time he thinks about brining it up, Charlie glances over at how relaxed Adam looks, spread out in the seat and looking more at ease than he has since Charlie has known him, and Charlie just can’t convince himself to do it.

The problem is, though, that if they all have reason to question it, Fulton does most of all. Fulton seems to have a sixth sense for finding Adam and Charlie in the spare moments of alone time that they’ve managed to piece together on this trip. Time after time he catches them coming out of bathrooms or turning corners, tucking in shirts and rearranging themselves and generally smelling and looking like sex.

It doesn’t help that they’ve also been sharing a room. In the name of budgeting, they’ve been sticking to two rooms: Guy and Goldberg in one, Fulton, Charlie, and Adam in the other. Adam always takes the cot but, since he’s the first up in the morning, he takes the opportunity to wake Charlie with a kiss, more often than not sitting on the edge of the bed by Charlie’s hip and stealing a few minutes of private conversation. The arrangement is innocent enough, but more than once Charlie has caught Fulton watching them out of the corner of his eye, as if trying to figure out if what it is about Charlie and Adam that’s just a little bit _off_.

Charlie isn’t about to fill him in.  
***  
“You know what I wanna do tonight?”

Charlie turns his head towards Goldberg, where’s he’s sitting on Fulton’s bed, chewing on a cup of ice cubes. He holds his hand out and Goldberg hands him a half-melted cube. “Hmm?” Charlie asks, running the ice around his wrists and falling back against the bed.

“I wanna go to a strip club.”

“What?” Charlie bolts upright and from the look Goldberg is giving him, he’s knows that he’s put up way too much of a protest way too quickly.

“Only gays and virgins don’t wanna see women at strip clubs.” Goldberg sits up and leans towards him. “You a virgin, Captain?”

Charlie tries to laugh it off, but he knows that too much of his relief comes through and Goldberg reads the laugh for how fake it is. If only for the wrong reason.

Goldberg sits on the edge of the bed, grinning in only the way Goldberg grins when he has a plan. “We’ll take care of it tonight. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.” Charlie buries his head in the pillows and Goldberg pats his knee.  
***  
They do actually start out at a strip club. Only problem being that they’re pretty strapped for cash a few weeks into the trip and the only thing that Goldberg can buy Charlie is a five-minute lap dance that is rather unenthusiastic when she realizes that she’s making a straight $15, tip included.

She is beautiful, though. Long, wavy hair barely covering her breasts, flimsy clothe doing nothing to hide her ass, tall and thin and perfectly curved. A flash of them together comes to Charlie, and they make a nice picture, but it doesn’t do a thing for him. Which, actually, surprises him a little bit.

It’s almost laughable, really, how uninterested every party is in the whole thing, but Charlie feels a little bad when she finishes and glances at his lap to see that his dick isn’t the slightest bit interested. So, when the $15 is used up and they decide to bail, Charlie pulls her aside.

“Look, I’m sorry about that.”

She looks him up and down. “No big deal.”

“No, I mean-” Charlie gestures down towards his crotch. “It’s not you. It’s me. I promise.”

She laughs, then winks at him. “Is it the cute blond one?”

“What?” Charlie splutters.

“Your boyfriend. He was glaring at me the whole time.”

“Oh.” Charlie doesn’t really know what more to say. He’s had a lot to drink and she’s figured them out in less than five minutes, when their friends are still clueless after eighteen months. He doesn’t know what to do with that. All he can come up with is, “I’m sorry,” and he doesn’t know if he’s apologizing for himself, or for Adam, or what, but he bolts before he has to do any more explaining.

He meets the guys outside and Goldberg is eyeing him as if he can see her number written on Charlie’s palm or something, but Charlie just shrugs him off. “I just needed to apologize for you idiots.”

“You can thank us later.” Goldberg winks at him and Charlie has to stop from rolling his eyes at the big secret Goldberg think he’s hiding for him.

“I’ll take you up on that.” Charlie thinks his joke his funny and it takes him a moment to realize that it may be an inside joke when no on else is laughing with him. Also, he really did have a lot to drink, and the world is spinning under his feet.

His thought is confirmed when they get back to the hotel and, less than thirty minutes after they turn off the lights, he’s racing towards the bathroom. He’s clutching the edge of the toilet seat when he feels a hand on his bare back. He finishes emptying his stomach and leans against Adam.

“You okay?”

Charlie nods, then rethinks moving his head so quickly. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Charlie motions towards his lap. “For the – dance.”

Adam chuckles. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Charlie insists.

Adam frowns. “It’s okay, you know, if you were a little turned on by it. I mean, she was right in your lap and, well, we never talked about how you still feel about women and I’ve always wondered, with Linda and all.”

Adam’s babbling and it’s such a rare thing for Adam to do that it takes Charlie a moment to kiss him quiet. “No, no, that’s just it. I felt nothing for her, not even a twinge. And she was beautiful.” Adam laughs and Charlie turns to take Adam’s face in his hands. “I love you.”

Adam’s entire body goes still, tense in Charlie’s arms for the first time since they started this. Charlie, still feeling a little dizzy, wonders if perhaps Adam hadn’t heard him. “I _love_ you,” Charlie repeats, a little awed by the words himself.

Except, Adam starts laughing. _Laughing_. And Charlie frowns. “What?”

“Oh, Charlie,” Adam holds his hand over his chest.

“I don’t – why are you _laughing_?”

“’Cause this is what I love so much about you. We’re on the bathroom floor, with Fulton in the next room, and this is when you decide to tell me.”

“Sorry?” Charlie tries, but then his brain clicks into place. “Wait, what did you say?”

Adam smiles, his shy little smile. “Yeah. I love you, too.”

“Hmm.” Charlie rests his head on Adam’s shoulder. “I really wish that Fulton wasn’t out there right now.”  
***  
“You picked a great night to stop over in Pecos.”

“Why’s that?” Charlie asks absently as he signs the credit card statement for the only hotel in Pecos, New Mexico.

“Well, it’s Tuesday night, of course.” The manager is a friendly man in his mid-sixties, so happy to have guests that he offered them five separate rooms for the price of one. Charlie glances around at the old wooden structure, wishing that the walls were thick enough to take advantage of the alone time.

“What happens on Tuesday nights?” Adam asks, almost curiously, after Charlie had completely forgotten that he was having a conversation with the guy.

“It’s karaoke at The Alamo. Best night of the week.”

Adam flashes the guy his best smile and takes the keys he offers. “We’ll see you there, then?”

“Oh, yes.” His eyes are sparkling. “Haven’t missed a Tuesday night in forty years.”

“Are we really going to karaoke tonight?” Goldberg whines when they’re halfway up the stairs and nowhere near out of earshot yet.

Adam shrugs, his eyes shining. “There’s nothing else to do. Might as well.”

Which is true. Pecos is a tiny town about thirty miles outside of Santa Fe and far enough from route 25 that few tourists stop here. As they drove in the only things Charlie noted were the bar, the hotel, and a strip club. Charlie isn’t really itching to repeat that experience again.

Except, that doesn’t explain why Adam is so obviously excited about the prospect.

Charlie’s still trying to figure it out a few hours later, fresh off a nap curled tightly around Adam, and full on ribs and cornbread. The food was delicious, and they’re all starting to wonder if perhaps the heat is worth it for the food down here.

“I wonder if Connie would go for it.” Guy muses as he leans back in his chair, sipping his beer. “We could buy a little house in Santa Fe. Have a garden all year round.”

“Sounds nice.” Charlie looks wistfully at the last bits of coleslaw on Adam’s plate, wishing that it wouldn’t be weird to eat them.

“I don’t know.” Adam says, catching Charlie’s eye. “There’s no hockey in Santa Fe.”

“Mmm.” Charlie muses. “Maybe we could just open a bar-b-que dive in St. Paul’s? That way we get hockey _and_ great food.”

“Now that’s an idea.” Goldberg leans across the table excitedly and, under it, Adam touches Charlie’s knee. Charlie presses into his hand briefly.

They’ve drawn up most of the menu for their dream restaurant by the time that the music starts, and it’s not just city karaoke with a techno-beat machine and a limited playbook. It’s the real deal, with a stool, an acoustic guitar, and a piano and Adam’s eyes light up quicker than Charlie’s seen before.

“What is it about this that has you so excited?” Charlie asks, interrupting their debate about corn-on-the-cob verse creamed corn, and staring at Adam.

Adam blushes, and Charlie starts getting a sick feeling. He kicks Adam under the table, but Adam shakes his head, leaning in so that he has everyone’s attention. “Remember last year, when Spazzway was out for a couple months ‘cause of his ankle?”

“You mean when he stood behind the bench and yelled worse than Coach Orion?”

“Or when he decided to create eating plans for each of us and document our progress?”

“Or like when he woke us up at 3 am to discuss plays?”

All three of which Charlie feels are completely unfair accusations, because all he was trying to do was make sure that they were prepared when he couldn’t be on the ice with them. He worried about them, and it’s nice to know that they cared so much.

“Right.” Adam smiles, and Charlie throws one last, pleading look at him, which is completely ignored. “So, in his effort to be less bored, Charlie started taking guitar lessons.” They all gape at him and Charlie thinks he should really be offended by it, except that he knows where this is going to end and, really, he has many other things to worry about. Such as the fact that all their looks of skepticism are completely and utterly founded.

“Ever since I found out, I’ve been trying to get him to play something. This seems like the perfect opportunity, don’t you think?”

Charlie drops his head into his hands on the table, groaning loudly. He had been able to make Adam forget about the whole incident, mainly through kissing and blowjobs and some really good fucking, but he can’t very well do any of those things here. Although, he is considering it when he opens one eye to peer up at them and, no, it’s really not going to work, with all _four_ of them looking at him like that, and he thinks that he’d even rather sing in front of them than kiss Guy and Goldberg.

The waitress steps into his field of view and he waves her over, ordering shots and another round. Lucky for him, when Adam goes up to the stage to sign him up, there are already eleven people in line, giving Charlie about forty-five minutes in which he gets himself pleasantly buzzed enough that everything’s beginning to look a little fuzzed around the edges and he thinks, just maybe, he can do this.

Until his name is called and it takes all four of his friends to push him to the stage, where a pretty young lady looks him up and down, obviously noting that he’s surrounded by four boys and a lack of girlfriends. She also seems to be under the false impression that he’s some sort of musician and that he’s here by choice.

“Piano or guitar?” She asks, looking at him from under her eyelashes, and he looks back at Adam with wide eyes, pleading for help.

He pats Charlie on the back. “Guitar. You wouldn’t wanna see him try at the piano. Two left hands.” Which, Charlie wants to add, means that he’s no better at the guitar, but when he looks down, he’s sitting on the stool in the middle of the stage, an acoustic guitar in his lap, with no idea of how he got here.

His hands are shaking and he doesn’t know if he even _can_ do this. He knows he’s really not very good. He’s always known that he’s more the jock than the troubled musician, but when he decided to try this last year, he really hadn’t been in a good place. Even then he’d known that he wouldn’t be any good, but when three kids in his history class had begged him to be in a band, he hadn’t been able to turn them down. They had practiced once a week in one of the kid’s dorm room, and they had never left the safety of closed doors for a reason.

It’s ridiculous and stupid and it should be incredibly embarrassing, except when he looks up, Adam is leaning on the table and staring at him. All the playfulness, the amusement, is gone, replaced by hunger and affection and an overwhelming arousal that Charlie can see even from up here. Charlie shivers under the gaze, and forgets why he ever thought this was a bad idea.

In fact, he can’t remember why he thought _any_ of this was ever a bad idea, and he pulls the guitar closer to him, smiling out at the crowd. “I should have sung this song a long time ago, but, well, you’ll see in a moment why I was reluctant. Tone deaf,” Charlie points to his ear and he gets a little laugh from the room, before focusing entirely in on Adam. “But, anyway, here it is. This song is for my boyfriend.”

Later, neither of them will ever remember what song Charlie sang. And, in retrospect, if he actually wanted Adam to _hear_ the song, he probably should have made the announcement _after_ , but he hadn’t expected the shear number of questions that Fulton, Goldberg, and Guy had for them, and, at the time, Charlie really couldn’t hold it in any longer.

They’ve advanced far from Fulton’s “I knew it” and Goldberg’s “huh” by the time they leave the bar, the cool desert night helping to temper Charlie’s buzz.

“How long?” Fulton asks, peering at them as if he can calculate the dates just by looking at their faces.

“Mmm, about a year and a half.”

“Really? I thought it was a couple of months or something. With the number of times I’ve caught you this trip.”

Adam blushes deeply, dropping his head, and Charlie laughs. “Mmm, Adam’s just so hot. Can’t keep my hands off him.” Which makes Adam blush even deeper and Charlie grins.

“What’s it like?” Guy pipes up.

“What’s what like?”

Guy shrugs. “Sex with a guy. Like, what kinds of things to you do? Do you-?” He motions towards his ass and Charlie rolls his eyes.

Adam pinches Charlie to keep him from saying anything else utterly embarrassing. “I’m not answering that.”

Fulton leans in. “Is it good? Tell us Spazzway has at least some talents?”

“Oh, yeah.” Adam draws the word out slowly. “His mouth is quite talented.”

It’s Charlie’s turn to blush, and he thinks that if he were to look down, even his toes would be pink in his flip-flops.

“I’d like a diagram sometime.”

“Goldberg,” Charlie groans.

“What?” He shrugs. “I gotta get something good out of this, right?”  
***  
“So have you guys been doing it with Fulton in the room?”

Charlie glances next, to him, where Goldberg’s leaning forward to look at them both accusingly. Charlie sighs and takes a hand off the wheel to push him into the backseat. The ribbing hasn’t really stopped since last night, but, frankly, Charlie’s a little bit surprised that they’ve taken it so well.

He can take a little good-natured teasing, especially when he glances next to him to see Adam is splayed out again, face towards the sun, beautiful and pale and, finally, Charlie can do this.

He rests his hand palm-up on the edge of Adam’s seat.

Adam looks over at him, smiling softly, and places his hand in Charlie’s.

Charlie grins and turns back to the road. Totally worth it.

 **III. Little Pink Houses**

“This is the last one.” Adam holds out the beer, and Dean snatches it.

“Thanks.”

Adam shrugs. “Least we can do.” He glances around at the boxes strewn across their new living room.

Fulton groans, stretching his back. “Yeah, fifth floor?”

Charlie shrugs. “Didn’t have much choice.”

“It’s nice, though.” Connie pipes up, coming into the room from the bedroom. It’s sort of an overstatement. The apartment isn’t much, just a living room attached to a small kitchen, the bedroom, and the bathroom, but it’s all they could afford. But, even if there is a little mold in the corner of the bathroom, and if the handle on the refrigerator sort of comes off half the time, it’s still _theirs_ , and Adam’s proud of it.

“It’s ours,” Adam shrugs, finishing up his beer and placing it next to the door. He makes a note to ask the super about recycling.

When he turns around, he catches Charlie stretching, his shirt riding up, and Adam swallows.

“I think it’s time for us to go. Give these two a little alone time.” Connie winks at them and Adam blushes.

“You don’t have to,” he tries to protest, but not very hard, and Dean just rolls his eyes as he finishes up his last beer and puts it next to Adam’s by the door.

“No problem, man. First night in a new place. Gotta break it in.”

Which, really, does nothing for Adam’s blush, but Dean is leaving and they’re all following, so it’s a small price to pay. Adam closes the door tightly behind Fulton and leans back against it. The place seems eerily quite, now that it’s just him and Charlie, no Ducks, no furniture. In essence, they’ve been living together for years, but Adam seriously doubts that a dorm room really rates on the “living together” scale.

“So, um, what do we do now?”

Charlie grins at him. “We do exactly what Dean told us to do.”

They haven’t bought a mattress yet. Adam’s parents had given them an IOU for Christmas last year, but with graduating from Minnesota and moving and job-hunting, they just haven’t gotten around to it. They did drag the futon from their old common room in the dorms outside, though, and beat it a bit with their hockey sticks before putting it in their bedroom, so it’s not so bad as their first bed.

Not that Adam would notice if they were on a dirt floor by the time Charlie has him on his back. They’re both sweaty and sticky from lugging boxes, but Charlie is still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He reaches up, wrapping his hand around the back of Charlie’s neck and pulling him down, easing his tongue into his mouth.

They kiss like that, Adam’s tongue sliding against Charlie’s, until Charlie’s arm starts to shake from holding his weight and he pulls away. His drops to his elbow, caressing Adam’s hair as he pants into Adam’s neck. “I love you,” he whispers, and Adam grins, turning to kiss the top of Charlie’s head.

“Love you, too.” Adam drops his hands to Charlie’s waist, slipping under his shirt and caressing the smooth skin of his back. Charlie arches into his hand, practically purring.

Adam grins, flipping them over and pulling Charlie’s shirt off in one motion. He wants to explore every inch of him. He’s tried before, but it was near-impossible in the dorms. Charlie isn’t a naturally quiet guy in bed, and he’d learned to compensate with small moans and biting his lip almost raw, but they had always had to stop at a certain point when it all got to be too much. Not tonight.

So Adam takes his time. Fingertips trailing up Charlie’s sides, counting every rib as his lips worry away at his favorite spot on Charlie’s collarbone. Charlie’s skin is red and flushed and Adam swipes his tongue across the hollow of his neck to taste the salt that has pooled there. He scoots down, catching Charlie’s left nipple in his teeth and pulling gently, just ‘til the nipple is red and swollen and Adam soothes it with his tongue.

“Adam-” Charlie whispers, his fingers tangling in Adam’s hair and Adam doesn’t know what he’s begging for, but he likes the noise and he dips his tongue into Charlie’s bellybutton, fucking the little indentation with his tongue until Charlie is calling out and that’s all it takes, the moans and cries and whimpers coming in a long stream now.

Adam pulls himself up Charlie’s body, kissing him deeply as his hands find the button on Charlie’s jeans. “Yes, babe, yes, I wanna _hear_ you.”

Charlie’s eyes are dilated and unfocused as he turns towards Adam, and Adam leans forward to nip quickly at Charlie’s bottom lip before ducking down to strip him of his jeans and boxers. The clothing falls to a heap behind him and Adam sits back on his heels, admiring his handiwork, the collection of red marks all over Charlie’s chest.

“Fuck, Adam, please, I need-” But Charlie doesn’t get to say what he needs, ‘cause Adam slips his hand under Charlie’s ankle and starts to kiss at the nerves there. He moves up Charlie’s calves with long, rough licks, stopping to nibble right above the knee. He finishes at the hollow of Charlie’s hip, pressing hard with his thumbs before starting again on the other leg.

Charlie’s cock is purple and leaking, a warm pool of pre-cum already cooling against his belly as he thrusts his hips sideways, searching for friction, a hand, a mouth, _anything_ , but Adam just grins up at him, pressing Charlie’s hips tightly into the mattress. He takes his time, worrying Charlie’s balls with his mouth, before he adjusts his knees on the futon and takes Charlie into his mouth in one go.

Adam’s never heard the sound before, a desperate, raw cry and Adam’s chest aches. He focuses on making this good, pulling back and kissing down the underside, pulling at the skin where his cock and balls meet, until Charlie’s hands are twined in his hair and he’s pulling franticly.

Adam goes, resting his weight on his hands beside Charlie’s head, careful not to put too much pressure on his bad wrist. It’s been off a cast for a few months now, but sometimes it still twinges in the brace. He settles his balance and peers down as Charlie’s body shakes with the exertion of bringing himself back to earth.

“Sorry,” Charlie pants. “I wasn’t gonna last.”

Adam grins at him, starting to pull away to flip them again, when Charlie catches his elbow and holds him there. “What?” Adam frowns at him.

“I want you,” Charlie whispers, spreading his knees so that there can be no mistake what he’s asking for.

They don’t do it this way often. Charlie generally likes to maintain control even off the ice, and Adam is all too willing to bottom. But Charlie’s looking at him, desperate and determined, his body relaxed in Adam’s hands and, even though Adam may be a little worried about hurting him, he’s not going to pass up the opportunity.

He nods, sliding off the bed and stripping. He glances around, looking for the box labeled “Bedroom – Important,” and dives for it. It contains their alarm clock, Adam’s first hat-trick puck, and the lube. Adam grabs it, and digs deeper.

“Did you put the condoms in here?” Adam glances over at the bed.

Charlie frowns. “I think so.”

Adam digs through the box franticly, but it only contains three items and he really can’t _will_ it to contain what they need. “I don’t-”

“Come here.” Charlie holds out his hand and Adam hesitates, staring traitorously at the box, before joining Charlie on the edge of the futon. Charlie rests his hand on Adam’s thigh, rubbing comfortingly. “It’s okay.” And Adam peers down at him as if he’s lost his senses, but Charlie just squeezes his leg. “We’ll go without.”

“What?”

Charlie curls onto his side around Adam, leaning forward to kiss his hip. “It’s been _six years_ , Adam. There’s been no one else but you.”

And it’s not like Adam _thought_ that there might have been, but there were those three months sophomore year and it’s a relief to know that Charlie had been as celibate during that time as he had been. And it’s not like they haven’t made a much bigger commitment to each other, what with the apartment and the choice they made a few months ago, but this is big, bigger than anything Adam can ever remember and it scares him.

“Adam?”

Charlie’s looking less relaxed now and, belatedly, Adam realizes what Charlie probably thinks the silence means. “No, no,” he runs a hand through Charlie’s hair. “Just you. Only you. Always.”

“Well, then-” Charlie rolls over, pulling Adam with him and spreading his knees again so that Adam can fit himself between them. He pulls Adam’s head down and whispers in his ear. “I want you.”

Adam’s hands are still shaking as he pops open the top of the lube and warms a good amount in his palm, taking much longer than usual to slip one finger in. He works agonizingly slowly, stretching Charlie and working him until he’s aching and hard again, dripping pre-cum on Adam’s shoulder and begging him to get on with it. Adam, himself, is finding it hard not to rub off against the mattress and he knows he can’t delay much longer.

He pulls his fingers back, stretching out to steady himself above Charlie again, brushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. “You sure? I – I need to know that you’re okay.”

Adam knows he sounds desperate, but there’s no hesitation when Charlie nods, tightening his thighs around Adam’s waist and pushing him forward. Adam goes, and, “Oh god,” he groans, catching himself on his hands and resting still when he’s all the way in. “Why haven’t we done this sooner?”

Charlie chuckles, wrapping his arms around Adam’s waist and resting against his lower back. “You feel so close, so hot.” And Adam feels it too. Logically, he knows that this can’t be that much different, but it feels _different_ , hot and hard and he can feel every pulse of Charlie’s body.

This is going to be embarrassingly short, but from the way Charlie’s cock is dripping against his stomach he’s not going to last long, either. So, when Charlie urges him to move, he does. He can’t even tell if he’s thrusting hard or gentle, ‘cause it’s all just too much, surrounding him, enveloping in the feeling of _Charlie_ and as Charlie reaches the edge, Adam follows him over, pumping hot and warm and long.

Charlie’s hands are comforting him through the aftershocks, caressing his back and straightening his legs with a groan so that Adam can pull back and collapse beside him. Charlie presses to his side, head heavy on Adam’s shoulder and Adam reaches down to press a finger into Charlie, wet and heavy.

Charlie lets him stay like that for a moment, before he shifts uncomfortably and Adam withdraws, pulling Charlie close. “That was the hottest thing we’ve ever done.”

“Mmmhmm,” Adam agrees, too sated and weak to even worry about cleaning them up before he pulls Charlie even closer and drifts off.  
***  
Charlie’s a little sore when he wakes up the next morning. Some sort of combination of the futon and the box-lifting and the lovemaking long into the night leaves him aching and grumpy, grumbling as he trips over a few boxes on the way to the bathroom.

After throwing some water on his face, he’s at least awake enough to smell the coffee and follow the smell into the kitchen, where Adam thrusts a mug into his hands. Sighing happily, he takes a few large sips before he puts the mug down on the counter and looks around him.

Adam has dug through a few of the boxes, pulling out the coffee maker and the set of pans that Charlie’s mom gave them as a housewarming gift, and he’s currently wearing boxers and humming The Counting Crows while cooking magnificent-smelling eggs. Charlie has to swallow, reminding himself how sore he is before he just gives up and jumps Adam right now, hot stove be damned.

“What you looking at?” Adam asks with a smirk, wiggling his ass, and Charlie bites his lip.

“You.” He knows the question was meant in jest, but Charlie answers anyway, coming up behind Adam and resting his head on Adam’s shoulder.

“Do you ever regret it?” Adam’s voice is small, his body tense in Charlie’s arms, eyes trained on his damaged wrist encased in its brace, unable to even hold the spatula tight enough to flip eggs.

 _Damaged beyond repair_ the Doctors had told them last spring. Just a couple short months before the NHL draft, Adam slotted to go in the late-second, early-third round, until the injury and the impossible recovery took him out. Forever.

At the time, Adam hadn’t known what to be more afraid of: losing hockey or losing Charlie by default, when he went off to the NHL without him. They had spent six years lying awake at night, dreaming and planning and scheming a glorious life of hockey and cars and adoring fans. A life that Charlie could still have. Without him.

 _Nah, I’ve always liked coaching more anyways_ , Charlie had said then. Now he just squeezes Adam tightly, as if being here, in St Paul, in their tiny apartment, is all Charlie’s ever wanted from the world.

“Easiest decision I ever made.” Charlie whispers and perhaps, just perhaps, Adam is starting to believe him.


End file.
